


One More Addiction

by poisontaster



Series: Sex Pollen [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Study, Dom/sub, Ficlet, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-06
Updated: 2006-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 07:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4951939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He looks at the bracelet and he thinks owned. And he likes it.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More Addiction

It's just a thing, he knows that. A bracelet. A little strip of dyed leather and two snaps that he could take off in about a second flat—less than a second—if he wants to.

But he doesn't want to. Not by accident. Not to be _rid_ of it. Not ever.

_…it means you're mine._

Dean's never belonged to anyone before. Or…no. That's not right. Dean's never belonged to someone who actually claimed him. Someone who made Dean _his_. Someone who said, "Yes. I accept. I take you for myself and now you're mine." And he thinks maybe there's some cosmic irony to the fact that the person to do it, the person to shred him and rebuild him and own him is Sam—who's always had first claim on him anyway, even if Sam didn't always know that to be true.

Sometimes when Sam's not looking, he'll flex and turn his wrist, feeling the leather bind against the bone. It's always warm. He finds that both weird and weirdly reassuring; a few degrees hotter than his own swift moving blood so that he's always conscious of it there, hardwired to his brain, hardwired to his dick like an on-switch that was always there but has finally been given heft and substance.

He can see it when he walks; his wrist swings and for a moment that little band of black will catch his eye, send a flood of warm through his whole body. He would have laughed at anybody who suggested he'd turn out to be such a bottom, whining and spreading and begging—laughed and then kicked their ass half-way into next week—but this… He looks at the bracelet and he thinks _owned_. And he likes it. He likes it when it's Sam at the other end of that sentence. _Owned by Sam. I am his_.

He'd always thought of breaking as something to be avoided. You held yourself together and you moved on and if you moved fast enough for long enough then you could never be broken. But that was wrong, that wasn't true, it didn't work. He'd broken and broken and broken, holding increasingly smaller pieces in his bleeding hands and it hadn't done him any good to keep moving. He'd only lost pieces of himself along the way, getting brittle and slowly bleeding to death without being able to stop or to ever be still.

But breaking by choice, breaking because you can and because you need to and because you know without any doubt that someone is there to catch you… It's different. It's not bad. He doesn't have the words to explain how it is, exactly. His wide and varied sexual history never gave itself over to anything this…total, this intense. That delicious surrender of his tightly-held control... it felt like _relief_. Like lying down on a soft, warm bed at the end of a punishing hunt and falling into dreamless sleep. No decisions to be made. No life or death. No uncertainty masked with bravado. Just rest.

But for the first time, he feels stronger for having broken. He lets Sam put the pieces together and for the first time, they all seem to fit and they don't grate. Sam holds him and touches him and sees him. Sam tells him that he'll keep Dean forever, that they can do this forever, and it's all okay. They're both okay. Dean can be useful and good. Dean can please Sam. And Sam will please him. And Dean believes him, because Sam would know.

And it's not… He still plays his music way too loud while Sam whines and bitches. He still gives Sam two in the arm for flinching, or _punch-buggy, no takebacks!_ He still drives the car and pushes Sam out of the way when the stupid kid is about to get his damn fool self killed. He's still Sam's big brother. He's still _Dean_ , for Christ's sake. He's just…Dean with some added bonus features. Like a Special Edition or something.

Sam gave him a lot more than a piece of jewelry when he snapped the bracelet around Dean's skin with a long, searing gaze. He gave himself. Because he wants to. Because he wants Dean. And Sam is really the only thing Dean can ever remember wanting, so _that's_ okay.

Dean catches Sam eyeing him sidelong. Eyeing the bracelet. Dean takes a breath and it feels like he's breathing steam—both heavy and cleansing in his lungs. He flexes his arm, just a little, just showing Sam that it's still there, he's still Sam's. He watches Sam shift a little in the seat, long legs changing position and knows it's not going to be too long. _Owned_ , he thinks again and wonders when that word started to sound so much like _loved_.


End file.
